Do You Remember?
by Blake-the-N00B
Summary: The princes of Asgard were a mischievous pair when they were young. How does their fun together then, influence their love for each other now? This will eventually become a ThorXLoki


The sun had just began to rise on a fresh, cool morning. Brilliant oranges and reds highlighted the shining city of Asgard. Childish laughter echoed through the wide halls. In between huge pillars and to the tops of the high arches they rang. Small footsteps ran across the stone floors to hiding places and secrets. "Come on brother," a blonde haired boy called over his shoulder, "You're so slow!" He quickly realised that no one was behind him and came to a puzzled stop. "Brother?" he said to the empty hall. Where was he? the young boy thought, he had been there just a moment ago. No one answered him. The boy began to walk back down the hallway the way he had come, looking around for his lost companion.

A smaller raven haired boy watched the confused expression on his brothers face with a grin on his own. He had finally got him! The child stood behind a pillar and kept very quiet as he moved around it with fluid, snake-like steps, so he stayed out of the blonde's line of sight. Just a little closer and he had won…

With a sudden jolt, the blonde boy hit the floor with an _oomph_. Triumphant laughter burst out from behind him, or rather, on top of him after a second delay. "I got you, brother," the voice said proudly. The blonde boy arched his back to his brother fell to the side and began to laugh as well as he sat up, "not yet, you haven't." Confusion flashed across the black haired boy for a split second, "but-" he was tackled to the side before he could finish his complaint. The pair rolled about the hall laughing and wrestling, each of hen getting a few solid hits in before, _crash! _A pair of green and a pair of blue eyes widened as the sound reached the eardrums of the boys. Pieces of a once beautiful vase now lay scattered on the floor in front of them. The raven haired boy ruffled his hair to get some of the pieces out and yelped when a sharp pain shot through his arm. Before the blonde could ask what had happened, the click of a heel stopped behind him. Just my luck, both the boys thought as they turned to see their mother, Frigga. She looked down at the boys with a displeased look in her eye. The dark haired boy couldn't bear to see his mother angry with him, so he looked down and said quietly, "I'm sorry, mother."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too" the blonde said, looking at his mother, "we were just playing." Frigga looked at her light haired son, "Thor, I expected this from you," she turned her gaze to her darker hired son, "but you, Loki, I expect you to keep Thor in line." Her tone near the end told Loki that she was just giving him a hard time, that she was playing with him, but still…he clenched his fist and resisted the urge to cry out or flinch when the glass cut deeper into his hand.

Frigga looked at all the pieces of her vase and sighed, "oh well. You boys clean this up and go play in your room, okay? I don't want anyone getting hurt." Their mother walked further down the hallway and out of sight or earshot and the boys turned their bodies to look at the broken vase again. Thor looked at his brother and grinned; a grin that quickly faded when he saw his brother glaring at the floor with a burning hatred all over his face. "Brother," Thor asked hesitantly and reached out for Loki's shoulder, "mother was just joking."

"I know," snapped Loki as he slapped his brothers hand away and began to pick up the pieces of the vase that were closest to him. A familiar mix of emotions boiled up in the dark haired boy: anger, pain, and jealousy. He quickly cleaned up half of the vase and walked away from his brother. HIs hand burned and each twitch of his fingers earned him a new wave of pain. Instead of going to his room, Loki took a secret stairwell(it was only secret to Loki because Thor didn't know about it) to the roof of their home where he sat with his knees folded up close to his chest. He stared at his bloody hand with an icy glare; it was incredibly painful. He tried to remove it on his own, but it was too deep, and he would have rather died than go ask Thor or his mother for help in this moment. "Stupid mother," he said to no one with a voice that was close to breaking, "stupid Thor, stupid vase...I hate them all!" he shouted the last part into the wind out of frustration. "I...I hate them all," he said again quietly as he began to cry.


End file.
